


Kar'taylir

by themusicofmysoul



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themusicofmysoul/pseuds/themusicofmysoul
Summary: There is a certain intimacy that comes with being a part of a fully armored community.  Every gesture, every head motion, every twitch of a finger speaks volumes—sometimes more than that of the spoken word.Cassie Theron was used to this intimacy, her Mandalorian heritage deeply engrained in the very marrow of her bones, but this was the first time she was working with a stranger.  She had hardly expected him to be paying such close attention.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Mandalorian Character(s), The Mandalorian/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian/Original Female Mandalorian Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 149





	Kar'taylir

**Author's Note:**

> I have been enamored with the Mandalorian culture since I was a wee lass at the tender age of thirteen. I immediately imprinted upon them when I first read the _Republic Commando_ novels, and ever since then they have been My People. The people of Star Wars that I so genuinely was able to connect with in a way the Jedi and Sith never appealed to me.
> 
> So to finally see my people getting the spotlight? I'm over the moon.
> 
> I'd love to be able to utilize this little fic and expand it into something bigger, but we'll see! If nothing else, there will be other little fics to follow, because I am in love with my _cyar'ika_ and I need to write more with him.
> 
> ANYWAY, I'm done waxing poetic. _Haili cetare!_
> 
> ***see end notes for mando'a translations***

Silence was a common thing amongst her people. A thing of pride, if one wished to be dramatic about it.

Most cultures expressed themselves verbally, relying on words and sounds to communicate their thoughts and feelings to those around them—but Mandalorians were different, in that respect. Sure, they talked. They joked and fought and used their words to hurt others, just as everyone did. They even had their own spoken language, a language carefully guarded and kept from the archives of the _aruetiise_ , that was sacred and unique to their people. Only true _Mando’ade_ could speak it, and for an outsider to so much as utter a single word was considered the gravest insult. A debasement of the very essence of their culture, and an unforgivable offense.

But the truest testament to a Mandalorian’s place amongst their _vode_ was the ease in which they could communicate in absolute silence. Their helmets hid their expressions from the world, that infamous T-shaped visor acting as a solid buffer between a Mandalorian and their enemies. That meant they had to read body language like a _jetii_ would a mind. A nod. A wave of the hand. An inclination of the head. The shift of weight from one leg to the other. These simple gestures could speak volumes among the closest comrades, among friends and family, more so than any word in _mando’a_ ever could.

And perhaps that’s why Cassie was so shocked to hear the Mandalorian at her side break the silence between them, a loud sigh filtering through the audio system of his polished silver helmet. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you?”

Cassie stiffened at the directness of his question. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been staring at me for fifteen minutes now,” he stated easily, his voice smooth and even. “Either something’s bothering you, or you’re looking for an opening to jam that vibroblade of yours into my back.”

She ground her teeth, her jaw aching with the pressure as she forced her gaze forward and toward the farming outpost they watched over. With a rapid series of blinks, she magnified the sights in her helmet’s HUD, determined to pretend that she had, in fact, had her eyes on the mark, not her companion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A low chuckle emanated from the man, her HUD registering movement where he sat crouched to her left. He had probably shifted to face her. At least partially. She refused to give him the satisfaction of mirroring his movements. “You cock your head slightly to the side when you’re trying to discreetly keep an eye on someone in your periphery.”

Cassie blinked twice and canceled out her magnified view of the outpost, her head snapping toward him as she bit out, “I do _not_.”

The Mandalorian shrugged, leaning back against the wall of the rocky outcropping they had claimed for their stakeout, his attention on her. “It can’t be helped. The visor cuts off some of our peripheral vision. It’s not something an _aruetii_ would notice. Not unless they had the luxury of watching you work for an extended period of time.”

“And you have?” She felt her muscles tense beneath her own midnight blue _beskar’gam_ , a deep indignation taking root in her gut. They had been working together on this job for less than two weeks, the agreement they had struck something out of necessity rather than desire. To insinuate that he could call out her tells, that he could read her body like any other member of her _aliit_ , was outright insulting.

They hadn’t even shared their names, their deal reliant upon their anonymity. On the off chance one of them were to be caught by their target, a high ranking scientist within the former Imperial regime, they would get nothing more than a chuckle and a noncommittal shrug. There were no clan names to give, no identifier other than ‘Mando.’ It was safer that way for everyone. A high risk for a high reward. That was how they had wanted it when they agreed upon the terms, and that was how it had to be when dealing with former Imperial splinter cells.

But, somehow, this revelation felt worse than any name exchange ever could have been.

The Mandalorian just shrugged again in response—his go-to gesture when he wanted to downplay the significance of something, it seemed—and inclined his head. “Two weeks is a long time to be alone with someone. You’re bound to pick up on a few of their quirks.”

Silence fell between them once again and her companion turned his head back toward the outpost, seemingly willing to drop the issue. But still it burned at her, his question lingering like a foul stench that begged to be filtered out of the air.

And so she released an aggravated sigh, hating to have to concede even this much. “You have no _aliik_ ,” she murmured. His helmet shifted slightly in her direction, his body going tense and still. That reaction alone gave her all the answer she needed. “I thought maybe I had missed it. I hadn’t really been looking for one until now. So…” She trailed off, offering him a shrug of her own as her fingers drummed out an anxious beat on her thigh armor plating.

He sat in silence for a moment, his head still turned toward her. She couldn’t tell for sure if he was looking at her or at some point off in the distant green fields laid out before them, but still she felt self-conscious, and eventually forced her fingers to cease their incessant drumming. That was likely another tell she hadn’t noticed, and she suddenly felt naked and vulnerable beneath the blank scrutiny of his T-shaped visor.

“You’re right,” he finally said. It came out like a sigh, like a long held confession finally spoken aloud. “I have no sigil. Not yet.”

Cassie felt her brow arch in curiosity, forcing her neck to remain still as the urge to tilt her head to the side made itself apparent. She wondered if she did that every time something intrigued her. “How odd.”

The Mandalorian perked up, his rust colored armor glinting dully in the shifting sunlight. They’d have to move their position soon, lest a lookout notice their presence. “Why’s that?”

She felt the urge to shrug again, but forced her body to remain still. Never before had she felt so very aware of every twitch and twinge. “Someone of your reputation? I’d have thought you’d have claimed one long ago.”

A beat of silence followed as the Mandalorian turned his gaze back toward the outpost, his shoulders seeming to sag beneath some invisible weight. “One would think.”

Unsure of how exactly to decipher that statement, Cassie resumed her vigil over their target, her eyes scanning the small collection of rounded, mud colored buildings—but every now and then she felt her head tilt slightly, her gaze drifting back to the man crouched at her side.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Glossary, in order of appearance:**  
>  Kar'taylir: know, hold in the heart
> 
> aruetiise: traitors, foreigners, outsiders
> 
> Mando’ade: Mandalorians (pl) - sons and/ or daughters of Mandalore
> 
> vode: (pl) - brothers, sisters, comrades
> 
> jetii: Jedi
> 
> mando’a: the Mandalorian langauge
> 
> aruetii: traitor, foreigner, outsider
> 
> beskar’gam: armor
> 
> aliik: sigil, symbol on armor


End file.
